when a week of spro tripping morphs largely into a survey of home bars, it’s either a sign of this blog’s emerging homebody clinginess or a commentary on the quiet consistency spreading among the junkies — not genius, typically, but more and more very good spro.

this blog has its private hopes. hoffmann has his day of rest. betwixt the two, we might just find something worth stewing on. at the very least, it’s high time the lanky brit had him some deep south hinterlands brew — he once asked us to make him something terrible, the masochist. we aim to do our best.

if all falls flat, then at least we can shove a steam wand in our inner ear canal and give a mighty twist …